


The Things We Say and Do

by Baroness_Blixen



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Episode: s03e23 Wetwired, F/M, Feelings of guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Some angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-05 23:17:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20281513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baroness_Blixen/pseuds/Baroness_Blixen
Summary: In the aftermath of aiming a gun at Mulder, Scully is riddled by guilt and doesn't understand how he can just forgive her like that.





	The Things We Say and Do

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Underworld_Vampires](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Underworld_Vampires/gifts).

> Wetwired is one of my favorite episode and I couldn't have been happier or more excited to tackle it! I hope I did your prompt justice and I hope you enjoy the fic :) Thank you @peacenik06 for the beta!
> 
> Prompt:  
Mulder and Scully talk about the events of the episode after she aimed the gun at him. Scully is angry and upset with herself over giving in to that, while Mulder tries to reassure her, and Scully just doesn't get why he forgives her, which results in Mulder confessing his love for her.

They put her into the backseat like a toddler exhausted after a tantrum. As soon as her mother mentioned the hospital, an ambulance, she cried harder, her whole body shaking. That’s when Mulder stepped in. 

“No ambulance,” he said softly; was a promise. “We’ll drive her - we’ll take you to the hospital, Scully.” She couldn’t even look at him then, no matter how grateful she was. And she was. When does chance a look at him now, right before her mother buckles her in, her mind starts screaming at her. 

_I almost killed you. _

Ever so often, on the short drive to the hospital, she notices Mulder turning around and glancing at her. He is not subtle at all. She knows her hair is a mess, as must be her face. Her nose feels stuffy and her cheeks fiery hot from crying. That is not why he is looking at her, though.  
She ignores him, and his worries by keeping her eyes stoically trained on the window. How can she face him? Her hands still tremble from the weight of her gun. She was so sure. As sure as she's ever been of anything. Mulder. Gone to the other side. Working against her. The taste of betrayal, not unlike blood, lay on her tongue, bitterly reminding her. The feeling has subsided by now. She can still recall with certainty how real it all seemed, but now it just feels like a bad dream. What she saw, or thought she'd seen, play like scenes from a movie. 

At the hospital, they put her in a wheelchair, treating her as a subject of study, a puzzle to solve. Her physician keeps glancing at her, but never seeing her, only a disease to cure, while he speaks to Mulder and her mother. At least this is something she can relate to; after all, it's what she does, too. She has her arms slung around her, to keep warm, to keep everyone else out and away. Her mother touches her shoulder and smiles at her with teary eyes. I'm so sorry, she wants to say, scream even. All she's done tonight is cause the people she loves pain. 

Her mother is going with her as far as she can, just like she's always done. When Charlie was sick as a baby, her mother was always around him. She became his shadow. When Melissa had her appendix taken out, Maggie sat by her side, day in and day out, not even going home to sleep. As long as her daughter was staying in the hospital, so was she. 

"We'll call you," one of the nurses says. Scully senses that neither her mother nor Mulder want to leave. 

"I'm fine," she says, her eyes finding Mulder's. His are unblinking; like he wants to say something and then decides against it. She is glad. This is not the time or the place. Whatever he needs to say, he won't do it here while they have an audience. Finally, he nods. He even attempts to smile at her. It's shaky. Just like she feels. 

_I almost killed you. _

"Dana." Her mother hugs her again as tightly as she can, making the thought disappear. It has never failed to amaze her how strong Maggie is. In every sense of the word. 

"I'm fine, mom. I'm feeling better. It's fine, really. Go home, get some rest," Scully says. As she is wheeled away, she feels their eyes on her back. She gnaws on her bottom lip. Tears pool in her eyes. I’m not going to cry again, she decides with a last bout of determination. Not until they are gone. The illusion, the paranoia, whatever it was, falls away, and her behavior becomes crystal clear. Shame fills her, threatens to overflow. She feels sick with it.

"Don't worry," the nurse assures her with a hand on her shoulder. "We'll take care of you. Tomorrow everything will seem much clearer."

Scully doesn't worry about that; things are clear now. How she wonders, is she ever going to apologize to Mulder for pointing a gun at him? 

_Almost killed you. _

They can't fix that here. No one can change the past. 

*  
Her mother's relieved face is the first thing Scully registers upon waking up. "Good morning, sweetheart,” Maggie says softly. She doesn't remember falling asleep. Her tongue is glued to the roof of her mouth and her mother hands her a glass of water. She drinks hastily, feeling inexplicably thirsty. As she sets the glass aside, the memories flood back to her. Mulder. The gun. Breaking down in her mother's arms.

"How are you feeling?" her mother asks, seemingly sensing her thoughts. She takes her hand into hers and Scully marvels how warm it is. 

"I- I'm not sure. Tired. What time is it?" 

"Oh, don't worry about that, honey. They're keeping you here for another day so you can rest. And-," her mother trails off as the door opens. Mulder. She grips the blanket tighter, needing something to hold on to. This is her partner. Her friend. Who, she can't help but notice, is smiling. He's looking at her with that apologetic smile as if he's the one who aimed a gun at her last night. She winces. 

_Almost killed you._

"I'm going to leave you two alone," her mother says and leans over to kiss her cheek. She squeezes her hand, assuring her that it will be fine. But Scully doesn’t feel ready to be alone with Mulder just yet. Last night, without her mother… but before she can finish her thought, her mother has already left.

"Hey," Mulder says and opts for the chair next to her bed, unlike her mother who sat on her bed. She welcomes the distance between them, no matter how small it is. "How are you feeling?"

"Ashamed," she admits, looking down at her hands. The same ones that aimed the gun at him. "I was so sure, Mulder. I saw things and I heard things…" 

"You weren't in your right mind." He is shaking his head as he says it. There's a profound sadness in his eyes that gives her pause. _He’s only trying to humor me_, she thinks bitterly. When in reality he is just as disappointed in her as she is. "Hey Scully," he says as if reading her thoughts. She looks up at him. He appears slightly blurry at the edges; there are tears pooling in her eyes.

"I should have…" Talked to him. Known it wasn't true. She would have recognized the signs and seen that something else was at play. There are so many things she should have done, but didn't. How can he sit there and forgive her so easily? It's been a little over 12 hours since she's pointed a gun at him. And there he is, typical Mulder, with a half-smile on his lips, gentle eyes that look for life's truths around every corner. How can she ever forgive herself for almost shooting him? How can he? The weight of the gun in her hand, the weight of the situation on her mind. 

"It wasn't your fault." Mulder's voice is too soft. She hears the chair scrape over the floor as he moves closer to her. They're so close that if she wanted to, she could touch him. 

"I thought you were going to kill me," she admits, looking him in the eyes. 

"I'm not surprised," he says and leans in even closer.

"All these murders… I did some checking. Joseph Patnik thought he was murdering a Bosnian war criminal, a man who has been described as a modern-day Hitler. Both Patnik's parents were Holocaust survivors."

"I'm not following,” she says. Her mind can't keep up with Mulder's in this. Not once did she think Mulder was going to turn into a mass murderer. She thought he was betraying her. Just her. The moment when she first felt it, that betrayal looks like an old faded picture to her now. She can still guess at shapes and forms, but the details are no longer clear. None of it was ever real. 

"Helen Riddock was scared her husband was going to be unfaithful to her. You see a pattern developing here? What if this, this video signal somehow turned these people's anxieties into some kind of dementia? A virtual reality of their own worst nightmares?" Everything he says makes perfect sense to her. And yet, she can't shake the feeling of guilt that's invading her. 

"Like me thinking that you'd betray me. I was so far gone, Mulder, I thought that you had gone to the other side. I thought you and Cancer Man…," she trails off. 

"Hey," he says, waiting until she looks up at him. "I don't blame you one bit. You thought it was real. There was nothing you could have done." She stares at him, her lips quivering, no matter how hard she tries to control her emotions. 

_Almost killed you. _

"Scully, please," he whispers, pleads. 

"How can you-"

Almost killed you. The words keep shooting through her brain, unrelenting. 

"There is nothing to forgive, " Mulder says, shaking his head to emphasize his point. "I'm glad you're here, Scully. I'm glad you're alive."

"You're- wait, why are you glad that I'm alive? Mulder, it was me. I aimed my gun at you," and almost killed you, her mind adds. She dispels the thought. From Mulder's look, she can see that he didn't mean to let it slip. Something happened yesterday. Something that made him scared for her life.

"I misspoke." Mulder may think he is a great liar, but he doesn't fool her. He leans back in the chair and it squeaks from his weight. 

"Why are you glad I'm alive, Mulder? What happened?" 

His head drops to his chest and she hears a long sigh. Her heart is pounding rapidly as she searches her brain, looking for clues, trying to remember if she forgot something. Yesterday is hazy. The one thing she wishes she could forget – aiming the gun at Mulder – is etched into her mind. 

"Before I found you at your mother's… we, uhm- you were missing and I filed a missing person's report. The police," he stops and runs a hand through his hair. Scully's mouth falls open. No, she thinks. No. She needs to hear him say it, in case she's wrong. Again. 

"I got a call," he continues, swallowing hard and lifting his head to meet her eyes. They're mirrors of her own; they glisten with tears. "The police called me to… they thought they'd found you." Another pause. Scully wants so badly to touch him. To think Mulder had to… her stomach somersaults, then drops. Mulder thought she was… the word is too heavy, even for her thoughts. The need to touch him, to reassure him that she’s alive, to assure herself that this nightmare is over, intensifies. As soon as she reaches out her hand to touch him, she stops, frozen. 

"They… asked me to identify the body."

"Mulder." His name just falls from her lips, caught between a whisper and a wail.

"I thought it was you,” he says, swallowing hard. He fidgets in his chair as if he’s been sitting there for hours, as if his body was trying to escape.“Before I saw the body, I thought it was you. With the way you were acting, I feared the worst. I was convinced it was you."

"I'm sorry, Mulder," she sobs. This isn't fair; she doesn't want to cry, doesn't want to hurt Mulder even more. He is still sitting there, looking at her with his soft, teary eyes. "I'm just so sorry."

"None of it is your fault," he reminds her again and it's him who closes the distance, who takes her hand into his. Her first instinct is to withdraw. This hand… just yesterday… but as if sensing her thoughts and her hesitation, he intertwines their fingers. For a moment in time, they're stuck together, inseparable. She stares at their hands for a moment, marvels how different they are, and how well they fit together anyway.

"You hear me? Not your fault." 

"How can you say that? How can you sit there and just forgive me like that?" 

"Just like that? Scully, it wasn't you. You were affected by the signal. It caused a short circuit in your brain." 

"But-"

He cuts her off. "You forgave me for pointing a gun at you, didn't you?" His eyes are flickering with his own repressed shame. She has not once blamed him. That didn't even occur to her, not then and not now. Not for one second. Mulder is still staring at her, waiting for an answer.

"That wasn't your fault," she says, realizing she's using Mulder's exact words. "Pusher made you." 

His nod is slow. "And whoever was at work here made you. Why do you refuse to see that?" He squeezes her hand. How can she explain to him that it's different? All the while in that hospital room, while Pusher played his sick game with them, Mulder not once wanted to pull the trigger. None of it was his choice. Last night, Scully didn't fight the images and the voices in her head. She believed them. They told her to kill Mulder because if she didn't shoot him, he'd kill her. 

"I wanted to…" she says, her voice thin and tiny. "I almost killed you."

"Scully, look, I'm all right." He smiles at her to bring home his point. "You already shot me once, I wasn't worried." His smile turns into a grin, but she doesn't find it in herself to return it. It gnaws and gnaws at her, how easily he seems to forget what happened last night. 

"All these accusations I threw at you," she goes on. 

_You're one of them._

_You're one of the people who abducted me._

_You put that thing in my neck._

_You killed my sister. _

At that moment, she believed every single one. She looked at him and all she saw was betrayal. It all made sense, in those few hours. Everything clicked together. Looking at him now, she thinks of who Mulder really is, what he's done for her. How he's been there for her and trusted her. Trusts her. Even last night, even when she aimed a gun at him, he trusted her not to shoot. 

"Scully, I don't blame you. You want to throw accusations at me? Feel free."

"How can you be so nonchalant about all of this?" Angry frustration creeps into her voice. 

"Damn it, Scully, because I love you." That was something she did not see coming. She stares at him, waits for him to take it back, to say anything else. He doesn't. His eyes remain on hers and he doesn't let go of her hand. His thumb starts stroking the back of her hand. Whether it's to calm her or him, she can't say. 

"If yesterday was a virtual reality of my nightmares, is today's reality just a dream?" Scully mumbles. 

"You dream about us arguing?" Mulder's grin is shaky. The answer is yes. She dreams about arguing with Mulder. And sometimes, just in her dreams, their arguments heat up and heat up until… their mouths are otherwise occupied. 

"That's not the part I'm talking about." 

"You dream about me confessing my love?" Yes, she thinks. She has dreamed about that, too. Though she is not ready to admit any of it yet. Mulder is still grinning, but his lips quiver; the longer she remains quiet, the longer she makes him wait, the more agitated he becomes.

"Maybe," she answers, compromising, and hopes that her smile fills in the blanks. It's too soon to return the sentiment in words. Too soon to do anything but hold hands and know what the other person is feeling. "Thank you, Mulder." He blinks a few times. "For…"

"Scully-"

"I don’t know when they let me go home,” she begins and looks at Mulder, but from his face it’s clear he doesn’t know more either. ”Once I’m back at work, maybe we could… maybe go out for lunch.” Mulder’s eyes grow big and she wants to take it back, but she remembers that he loves her, has a mental receipt of it now, and wills herself to relax. “Lunch,” she repeats more certain. “I’m paying.” She holds her breath while she waits for his answer. But Mulder is Mulder and he doesn’t make her wait. 

"I'd love that," he replies, smiles, and she thinks that maybe, this might even be a date.


End file.
